Caged
by Neocolai
Summary: Scars are not always physical, as Kili learns when he is kidnapped for ransom. Dark Fic, no slash.


**A.N. **I wanted to explore the idea of a whumpless kidnapping fic. There are many factors which can be scarring, and these can be absolutely non-physical: fear, humiliation, isolation, despair... you get the picture.

**Warnings**: Dark Fic. Salmonella symptoms, human cruelty, some gross references, one or two crass remarks, and a bucket full of angst.

This fic does not contain any slash

* * *

"We'll see how much the '_Dwarven king'_ pays for his scrawny runt."

A final kick to the rusted cage, and they left him in peace. Kíli wriggled frantically, yanking on the bars. Orange smeared his hand and bits of iron flicked into his eyes, but the barrier remained. Shaking, he tucked his hands against his chest.

There was barely enough room to shift his arms in the rectangular trap, let alone stretch out his cramped legs. Kíli brushed a hand over his face, forcing himself to remain calm. Fíli would come. They would notice he was missing, and by dusk Thorin would storm inside and trounce those men who had kidnapped his nephew.

He just had to wait.

* * *

By dusk, Kíli's back ached fiercely and his legs begged for release. He maneuvered his arms out of the cage, wincing when his elbows caught, and flexed his hands. A badger would have more room than a pent Dwarf. Squeezing his eyes shut, Kíli wriggled his shoulders as best he could. How many hours had passed? The dim light from a dusty window had vanished, and still his captors had not returned.

Something scuttled in the corner. Gasping, Kíli wrenched his arms back into the cage. He peered into the darkness, wondering if there were rats and if Fíli's teasing was true after all. Would they really chew his face while he slept?

"Fíli, where are you?" Kíli whispered.

His back spasmed and he shifted again, whimpering when the bars held him. How much longer before the men returned? He would almost prefer a beating; at least then he could stretch out freely when they left him alone.

"Thorin, please hurry."

* * *

Pitch black took away his sight. A foul creature scuttled over his shoulder. Kíli screamed and batted it to the floor, smashing it with his palm until there was nothing more than a wriggling, gooey shell under his hand. He shuddered and swept it out of the cage. A cockroach, and it was probably still alive. The grotesque thing must have been as long as his finger.

Disgusted, Kíli pulled his hood over his nose and hunkered into himself as much as the bars would allow. He _really_ had to go, and his stomach growled from missing supper. What was taking Fíli so long?

Maybe they didn't know he was gone yet. Kíli hadn't even had the chance to shout when he'd been grabbed. One moment he had been sidetracking to the tavern, and then next he had found himself pulled into an alley, a pungent smelling cloth wrapped around his mouth and nose. When he had woken from a muscle knotting in his thigh, it was to find himself in a candle lit room, surrounded by three men and corroded iron bars.

"You'll stay here until '_his majesty'_ pays up," the squatter of the three scoffed. "Hope your uncle cares to get you back, kid."

That had been hours before the last candle burned low. Even longer since the room had chilled and Kíli began dizzying himself with thoughts of fire-baked bricks for his hands and feet and piping stew for his empty belly. Fíli had never taken so long to retrieve him!

"Hurry, brother," Kíli said, alarmed when his voice broke the stillness. "I'm ready to get out."

* * *

Dawn painted misty fingers on the window, and a bit of light finally eased the gloom. Kíli's hands were almost numb. He knew he should count himself lucky that it wasn't winter and he had escaped frostbite. There was nothing to be said for his toes, however. His legs ached dully and his feet were like blocks of stone.

The door slammed open in a flood of sunlight. Kíli clanged the bars, shouting expectantly. His joy was squashed with disillusion when he saw that it was his captors who had returned.

"Well, if it isn't our prince!" The stouter of the three men laughed, shaking ginger hair out of his face. "I say, Burdeon, he looks a mite upset."

The burly man scowled and kicked Kíli's cage. Instinctively the Dwarf cradled his head, cringing as the trap skidded backwards.

"He's more trouble than he's worth. I say bury him and snag the blond. Not even his mother'd pay to get this'un back."

"You're wrong!" Kíli snarled, sounding twice as bold as he'd expected. "When Thorin hears what you've done, there won't be a village or cave where you can hide!"

"So the lad speaks," said the tallest of the three. He slapped the burly man's arm. "Ease off, Burdeon. No need to torment it. We'll have our fun in due time."

"I don't see why this is necessary," the ginger grumbled. "Just kill him and be done with it. We're wasting our time!"

"And risking ourselves," Burdeon added. "I don't aim to pluck a ranger's arrow from my heart."

"The only dead one is _him_," the taller hissed. "Stop whining and feed it, before it makes any more noise."

The thought of food ricocheted through Kíli's stomach and he sat up an inch before the roof collided with his shoulder. Eagerly he watched Ginger dig out a hunk of bread and dried meat.

"Not too much," the taller man warned. He slicked his hood back, releasing a tangle of curly black hair. "I don't want there to be any more trouble than necessary."

Mulling over this, Ginger nodded and tore off a corner of the loaf, tossing it at Kíli. The bread smacked Kíli's nose and he scowled before wolfing it down. In three mouthfuls the meagre offering was gone, and he felt starved again.

"Can I get any water?" Kíli asked sullenly.

"If you're good and you do what you're told," Tall-man said blithely. He tossed a deck of cards onto the table and nodded for Ginger to join him. "Keep your mouth shut and don't clang the cage, and maybe we'll give you to your uncle in one piece."

"I have to _go_," Kíli snapped angrily. "Unless you want to live with the smell, you might let me out for five minutes."

Tall-man exchanged a worried glance with Burdeon. Sighing, the dark-haired man swept up the cards. "You're right. We don't want such a tedious inconvenience. Come on, Tal."

"Wait, where are you going?" Kíli called in alarm.

"Out," Tall-man said blithely. "There's nothing to keep us here, after all. Try not to make too much noise; I'd hate to cut your tongue out if you drew any attention."

"You can't just leave me here!" Kíli yelled, slamming his fist against the bars. "Hey!"

The door slammed shut, taking the voices with it. Kíli had forgotten how quiet the shed was. Shaken, he tucked his hands against his chest and twisted, keening as a bolt of pain shot from his neck to his head.

"Fíli, please hurry!" he whispered to the closed door.

He really, _really_ had to go.

* * *

At one point the sun filtered through the window, drawing close enough that Kíli could splay his hand in the weak light. He had finally given up and done his business, taking care to aim outside of the bars. The humiliation alone brought tears to his eyes, but he reminded himself that Fíli would come soon and all of this would be forgotten.

Noon twisted his stomach with howls that would have left Mum tutting fretfully, scolding Thorin for not feeding his nephew properly. For a moment Kíli felt her cool hand soothing his brow, and tasted warm bread filled with minced venison and onions….

The vision faded and Kíli felt twice as wretched, cramped in a cell hardly large enough for a coyote. Feeling had returned to his feet in skitters of lightning, knifing from his ankles to his knees until they rippled along his back in cruel strokes.

"Fíli, Fíli, Fíli," Kíli whispered, drawing his finger in the patch of sun. "Please find me. I can't stay here much longer!"

* * *

Dusk brought the hateful welcome of his captors. Kíli seethed, disgusted that he was glad for any voice besides his own. But their arrival also meant food. Grateful for almost anything, Kíli gnawed the now-staler bread that had been sitting on the table since that morning. His eyes flitted to the meat and he wondered if that might be offered as well.

No such luck. Tall-man investigated the jerky and looked pointedly at Kíli before tossing it into the corner. Kíli glared.

"Still fighting, eh?" Tall-man mused. "I can see why Oakenshield keeps you around. You're not much of a scrapper, but you've got spirit."

"Well, we don't need wolf pups around here," Burdeon grumbled. "Here; have a taste of rat swill if it serves you right."

Kíli barely had time to shield his face before a stream of hot, yellow fluid sprayed between the bars. He shouted in revulsion while the other men laughed.

"Burdeon, I can' believe you did that!" Ginger cried out.

"Why not?" Burdeon scoffed, securing his belt. "That's how the Easterners keep their slaves quiet."

"You realize the stench in this room is going to drive us out." Tall-man sighed. "I said humiliate the _prisoner_, not us. Try to think a little more creatively."

"Aw, look at the princeling, though," Burdeon crooned mockingly. "I think he might cry. Want to snivel on someone's shoulder, sewer rat? Think we could find you your Mummy?"

Choking, Kíli buried his hands under his sleeves and tried not to think about the drops sliding through his hair. _Not happening, it's not happening. Just a dream. Fíli will wake you…._

"He is quieter, at least," Tall-man commented, flicking a card into the center of the table. "I would almost suggest you try it again; just to see if he'll shut up for good."

Horrified, Kíli wriggled as far away as he could. Tall-man laughed.

"Congratulations, Burdeon. You struck fear into the heart of a warrior."

"I know how to do my job," Burdeon said proudly. "Most of those slaves, you don't even have to touch'em. Just leave'em in the wind and rain for a few months, with enough rations to keep'em alive, and they won't even remember how to fight."

"I'll take not of that if we ever have to keep a Dwarf around for an entire season." Tall-man leaned back in his chair, inspecting his cards insouciantly.

Wordlessly Kíli wiped his sleeve over his face, catching the drips. Thorin had once said that he and Fíli must watch out for each other; as though Orcs with knives and Men with clubs were the worst danger of all. Kíli almost wondered if pain would be kinder. Thorin had never warned him about _this_.

"Can I have some water?" he asked softly.

"What, that wasn't enough?" Burden sneered. Kíli flinched.

"Burdeon, stop tormenting him." Tall-man rolled his eyes. "Tal, go find a cup for 'his majesty'. I want him alive until his uncle pays the ransom." He shrugged at Burdeon's glance and said nonchalantly, "Corpses reek worse than your piss, and I don't see anyone who's eager to dig a grave right now."

Kíli swallowed hard. They really were serious. _Fíli, Fíli, Fíli…!_

Ginger returned with a tin cup filled with silted water, doubtlessly salvaged from a rain barrel that had been sitting too long. Kíli grimaced momentarily at the algae drifting apart, and then sucked the water down. The cup was too cumbersome to fit through the bars; he had to crook his arm awkwardly and plaster his face against the cage just to put his mouth around the rim. Brackish water trickled down his chin and Kíli rapidly drained the cup, half-minded to lick the droplets off the floor.

Half-minded as in 'nearly insane'. Burdeon's stench rose from the cage and he knew what else was pooling there. He had tasted it on the bars. Stomach heaving, Kíli wriggled away as far as he could.

Tall-man yawned and swept up Ginger's coins, tossing his last card onto the table. "Well, I'm not staying here for the night. Burdeon, stop leering at the kid; you're creeping _me_ out. If you want to chain him outside feel free, but don't blame me if he dies of pneumonia."

"Oh, I don't need to do that," Burdeon said lightly. Without warning he stomped forward and slammed his boot into the cage. Kíli gasped as the bars upended, leaving him flat on his back as foul liquid dripped onto his neck. Using the cage as a platform, Burdeon stepped up and felt around the roof before plunging a fire iron between two planks.

"Now what are you doing?" Tall-man groaned. "Do I have to live with the cold as well as your stench?"

"The kid said he was thirsty," Burdeon said gleefully. His bald head shone with smatters of fresh rain. "I thought we should oblige him."

"You're evil, you know that?" Tall-man drawled. "Fine, have your fun; but when this is over you're repairing the damage."

"Oh, I doubt we'll be needing to do that," Burdeon said as he followed the two men out. "Remember what you said about hiding the body? Can't blame anything but a stray ember if a cabin should catch…."

The rest was drowned out as thunder accompanied the slamming door. Kíli cried out and flung his arms over his head. Cold rain sluiced down his neck as water gathered on the roof, pouring through the first entrance it found. Soon the trickle became a steady flow, soaking Kíli's clothes and pooling beneath the cage.

"Fíli!" he shouted, sobbing as the wind howled in reply. "Fíli!"

* * *

The rain ceased by morning. Kíli lay in a daze, shivering, twitching as sleep evaded him. He caught himself humming aloud, trying to remember one of Mum's lullabies. The silence was agonizing. He could no longer feel his legs, and it was painful even to stretch his arms. He'd given up trying to ease the stiffness in his neck.

"Fíli, Fíli, Fíli," he sang, aware of the oddity of the name flipping from his tongue. "Fíli," he tried again. Strange that the name was only sounds strung together, and it was supposed to bring hope and warmth. Shuddering convulsively, Kíli lisped, "Th-or-in." The syllables seemed harsher when driven apart. "Dís." He liked that one. " Dís, Dís …. Mum, I'm here. When is Fíli going to look for me?"

His stomach recoiled and Kíli bucked, gasping as his neck seized with a cramp. Another spasm clenched his stomach. Yelping, Kíli tried vainly to twist to the side. A third buckling and the pain hit his bowels, acid tinging his mouth. Feverishly Kíli shook his head.

_Please, no, please, no!_

The roils continued as they had all night, and suddenly his lower body remembered it had purpose. Feeling surged momentarily, followed by a flood of warmth and a horrid smell. Kíli gaped, choking in horror as his bowels continued pressing against his wishes.

"_If the water smells bad, don't touch it,"_ Óin had warned. Why hadn't he listened?

Cramps speared his gut again and Kíli screamed as his pants gushed. Hot tears streamed down his face. He cried in shame, wondering what his family would think of him now.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, _please_, I need you, Mum!"

Sons of Durin weren't supposed to shed tears. He was an embarrassment to them all, and he couldn't _stop_.

"Fíli!" Kíli moaned, clutching at the bars overhead.

The cramps eased and he fell back, panting. His pants squelched and he instantly shut his eyes.

_Please, Thorin, I'm sorry for failing you so often. Don't leave me here to die alone!_

The door creaked open, and Kíli gasped for fear, desperate for freedom and yet praying it was anyone but Thorin who would find him caged and soiled like an animal.

"Fine work," Tal-man said agitatedly. "You drowned him, Burdeon."

A solid boot knocked the cage upright again, and Kíli gulped as his stomach heaved. Burdeon waved a hand over his nose.

"Phew! Didn't I tell you about the water, Tal? You probably killed him with that swamp muck."

"I followed Rieche's orders," Ginger snapped. "You never said the water had to be _clean_."

"This is going to rush things." Tall-man sighed. "Burdeon, what word from the Dwarf king?"

"Nothing, as I suspected," Burdeon said. "Probably rounding up a search party and twiddling his hands in dismay."

"I told you we should have grabbed the blond!" Ginger snapped. "Why don't we just cut off an ear and send it to Oakenshield."

"If you want to reach inside, you're welcome to," Tal-man said.

"Not this one," Burdeon argued, moving to stand in front of the cage. Kíli wanted to be hateful, but he only felt sick and helpless, and _grateful_ for the protection. "Infection in the head will kill him faster than the illness, and I'm not messing with blood. There's hounds in the town that will pick up the scent no matter how hard you scrub. Whether it's your blade or your hands… they'll find you."

Ginger yowled and kicked a chair across the room. "Then what are we supposed to do? I'm tired of waiting for snob-hog to get off his duffand pay us!"

"Then find another ring of thugs and join them," Tall-man snapped. "You're lucky to be promised a third of the share. Burdeon's done more work than the lot of us combined."

Smugly Burdeon bounced on his heels. He strolled past Ginger with a cocky grin. Scowling, Ginger turned on the only victim he could vent freely on.

"As if we needed the runt anyways!"

Kíli wrapped his arms around his head just before an iron capped boot slammed into the bars. The cage rattled and skidded backwards, and Kíli caught a glimpse of Ginger's foot pulling back again. Over and over the bars rang around him, throwing him back into the wall, whereupon Ginger proceeded to pummel the cage without mercy. Kíli screamed, terrified more by the violence than the maliciousness in the man's expression. There was no pain – no need, for he was protected by his own cage – but the cruelty itself shook him and he curled into himself, waiting for the rusted bars to snap.

"All right, Tal. ... Tal, that's enough!"

Burdeon's meaty, white fist dragged the ginger-haired man away. Relieved, Kíli sobbed quietly as the bars continued to tremble. He stiffened when Tall-man drew close.

"You'll live," Tall-man muttered. He shoved Ginger aside and stalked to the door. "Let's go find that ransom, then get rid of the brat. I'm tired of being confined here."

Glowering, Burdeon pushed Ginger ahead of him. "Next time you rattle the runt without my permission, I'll throw you in a cage."

Kíli buried his face in his arms and pretended he was home. Home and dry, with Fíli reading softly and Mum stroking his forehead. He didn't want to _think_ of food, as the notion alone caused his stomach to roil, but a fire and a knit blanket...

_Think of Fíli. Think of Fíli!_

Fíli's hand was warm, and never raised to hurt him. Blue eyes like Thorin's, and a quirking smile whenever he snuck behind Mum's back for a cookie – _no, don't think about food!_

Patient Fíli. Murmured words when he could have shouted, and soft laughter that always cheered Kíli's heart. _"Kíli, I'm right here…"_ He could almost hear his brother now.

A sudden _'clang!'_ startled Kíli just before the roof of the cage fell back. He gasped as large hands lifted him from his prison.

"No! No, _Fíli!"_

"I'm here! I'm here, Kíli!" The sob in Fíli's voice matched his own and Kíli's eyes rolled back as he felt his brother's hand on his cheek.

"F-Fee…?"

"Thorin, he's blazing hot!"

Someone laid him on the floor, and rough hands tried to pull his legs straight. Agony lanced his clouded mind and Kíli screeched as the muscles tore.

"Not so fast, you idiots!" Óin's voice rang. "Mahal knows how long he's been locked away."

"Kíli, can you hear me?" Thorin's voice was hazed. Kíli tried to open his eyes and the room swam. "Kíli, look at your brother. Open your eyes, Kíli!"

"Thrn…" Kíli mumbled as the room swayed to black. Thorin's strong hands cupped his face, and he heard Fíli cry out before darkness snuffed his sight.

* * *

"Kíli? Look at me, little sparrow. Kíli."

A soft voice dragging out his name. Gentle fingers carding his hair. He knew her and he wanted to cry.

"Mum?" His voice was like the wind on a dry shore, and he knew she could not have heard.

There was a gasp, and then a sharp, "Óin, he's waking!"

Metal was pressed against his lips. Whimpering, he twisted away.

"Kíli? Drink it, my love. Óin, what's wrong with him?"

"Drink it, lad. It will help with the pain."

_Pain!_ He recognized it now, clumping his back and legs in punishing knots. He groaned and twisted, trying to ease his confined shoulders.

"Óin, help him!"

"Kíli!" Fíli's voice now, taut and desperate.

"Stretch his arms out, Dís. Let him touch you."

Light hands took Kíli's own and he felt a large, hooked nose, sharp cheekbones and a narrow chin. Gasping, he wrenched his eyes open. "Mum?"

"I'm here, Kíli! I'm right here!"

The cup returned and he clamped his mouth shut. Dís' expression faded into a blur.

"Give it to me," Fíli urged. His hand replaced Mum's, smoothing Kíli's burning forehead. "Can you hear me, brother? You need to drink this. I know it tastes like pig swill, but Óin says it will help." There was a pause before Fíli's voice continued, more rasping than before. "There, you see? I've taken a draught myself, just to be sure. Come now, Kíli; when have I ever lied to you?"

_Never!_ He accepted the bitter drink, tears running down his face as he waited for pain. Fog swirled into his mind and numbed the burning in his muscles, before Fíli's voice vanished into the darkness.

* * *

"Kíli. Wake up, brother."

Grit loaded down his eyelids. Prying his eyes open, Kíli peered around the room – _his_ room. Smooth, sanded walls, messy wardrobe, upturned drawers and an overbearing brother. Space for his hands and legs to move freely.

Anxiously Kíli stretched, and then groaned.

"Your muscles will still be aching, Óin warned," Fíli said. He cringed in sympathy and felt Kíli's brow. "You've been very ill, brother. You haven't spoken a coherent word in a week."

"Found me?" Kíli rasped. He shuddered, remembering rusted bars and a boot slamming him against the wall.

Fíli nodded gravely. "We were almost too late. I'm so sorry, Kíli!"

Shaking his head, Kíli clung to his brother's hand. "Found me." He sighed, inhaling the scent of cedar shavings, ink and steel. "Happened?"

"We searched everywhere," Fíli murmured. A cup touched Kíli's lips, and he did not hesitate to drink. "Dwalin chanced upon the cabin. We found your hairclip outside, and … and …" He broke off and spent a few minutes breathing, reining himself in. "The men who captured you returned that night. There were two of them – tall and fair haired. They'll both see justice."

"Burdeon," Kíli murmured. He keened softly, remembering the humiliation. "Was a third…."

"A third man?" Fíli cursed. He resumed stroking Kíli's brow. "Thorin will find him."

There was a soft whimper, and Kíli realized it was his brother who made the sound.

"I thought we'd lost you!" Fíli whispered. "You were hardly breathing, and you were soaked through… You couldn't keep anything down, and Óin kept shoving that herbal medicine down your throat, and it would just run through..." He shuddered violently. "It was awful."

"Kay, now?" Kíli whispered.

"Yes, yes!" Fíli assured readily. "You'll be all right. You're safe, Kíli."

"Burdeon," he pleaded, sinking once more. "Find'im."

* * *

Four weeks of bed rest, excruciating exercises to free his arms and legs, and a stomach that was prone to upheave lunch on the slightest provocation, and Kíli finally began to feel secure. Fíli, Thorin or Dís was always home with him. Óin dropped by every day with another foul potion, and Dís coaxed her ailing son with tempting soups that his aching body could hold in. Six weeks after his capture, Kíli could sit up for hours on his own.

He rested outside one summer afternoon, cheeks raised to the warm sunlight and legs stretched before him. Thorin sat on the bench beside him, puffing silently on his pipe. At last Kíli mustered his courage.

"What happened to them?"

Thorin stilled. "Elaborate."

"The men who captured me." He stifled a tremble.

"Talmar and Rieche were imprisoned," Thorin said with a low growl. "They will not be released for many years."

"And Burdeon?"

Frowning, Thorin turned to face his nephew. "We found no one with that name. Are you sure there was a third?"

"Óin told you I didn't have head trauma," Kíli said bitterly. He stared into the leaves, picking out the colors that were just shifting to autumn red.

"They won't hurt you again," Thorin swore.

"I know." Kíli watched a leaf lazily streak down to the path. "You'll protect me."

He believed it.

He never doubted his family.

The leaf flipped over, revealing a sickly hue of yellow. Swallowing bile, Kíli squeezed his eyes shut.

He could almost hear the men laughing.


End file.
